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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827219">Oh, Serendipity</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenny_The_Cottage_lady/pseuds/Kenny_The_Cottage_lady'>Kenny_The_Cottage_lady</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>South Park</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Banter, Dark Academia, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Fate, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Enemies, Insecurity, M/M, Man vs. Self, Meeting at College, Multi, Private School, Series, Stan and Kenny Friendship, Swearing, multi-chapter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:35:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>11,499</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28827219</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenny_The_Cottage_lady/pseuds/Kenny_The_Cottage_lady</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stan and Kenny are childhood friends from the small Colorado town of South Park, who got a Scholarship to the Maine university of Periculum. Tossed into a world of old money and strict reputations, Kenny is surprisingly thriving in the new environment while Stan feels like the third wheel in his own life. One day, Stan meets a sarcastic ginger named Kyle and feels like he has a chance at a connection, until Kyle can see through the persona Stan constantly has on and is highly judgmental of it. Stan struggles with feeling lesser than his friends, unliked by his crush, and blind to how he is only sabotaging himself, but may be able to turn it around if only he recognizes what he is doing wrong. Dark Academia inspired College AU.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kenny McCormick/Leopold "Butters" Stotch, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh, Stan Marsh &amp; Kenny McCormick</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The Chase Begins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Stan ran down the cobblestone paths of the alleyway, the smoke he stole from Kenny resting in his mouth as he went. His oxfords clacked with each step, motivating Stan to keep going faster. He had to hold in his laughs to fight the cigarette falling out of his mouth. He could hear Kenny yelling far behind him, the swears of, “Stanley, you ass hat, you absolute fuck” echoing off of the walls of the old cottage houses lining the boundaries of the University campus. </p><p>The lawns of the quad were still damp with morning dew, but Stan ran through the grass in an attempt to make a b-line to the library, a place he knew Kenny definitely wouldn't suspect he would hide in a high-speed chase. Some students were littered around the stone benches, glaring at the man running into their quiet space. The library was just as old and ornate as the other buildings on Stan’s campus, old and gray and aged by both ivy and the constant rain in Maine. What always impressed Stan the most about the few times he went to study in the library were the carvings on the door, like runes he couldn't read but looking like something he wouldn't dare say out loud, all shapes and lines in delicate patterns in the heavy, heavy oak. The sturdiness of the door was Stan’s enemy in that moment, slowing him down as he pushed his whole body weight against the wood. The door groaned as it moved, and Stan softly chuckled at his plan. </p><p>He stepped into the warm library, empty in the early morning hours, and wiped his soaked suede on the welcome mat to not dirty the pristine dark wood floors. Mr. Mackey, the friendly but brittle looking librarian shot him a look and tapped his own mouth in reference to the unlit cigarette still miraculously hanging out from Stan's mouth. Mackey, sitting in a desk that looked far too modern in comparison to the rest of the building loudly whispered, “No smoking in the library, mmkay?” Stan quickly took the cigarette out of his mouth, showed that it was unlit, and put it into his jacket pocket, getting an affirming smile from Mackey at the gesture. </p><p>Stan looked around the library as he walked forward, long lines of wood tables and chairs lining the main hall. There were newly built study rooms in the edges of the first floor, still retaining an 1800's aesthetic, but have been useful to Stanley more than once in his college career. Up a spiral staircase in the corner held the book stacks on the balcony style second floors, filled with novels, reference books, newspapers, magazines, and manuscripts Stan had no idea the age of. The whole building was lit by mostly clear stained glass windows, but Stan always found himself enraptured by the smell of musty old books, coffee, and the green and blue floral detailing that wrapped around the edges of the uniquely shaped windows.</p><p>He contemplated where to hide next, but decided double-hiding would be overkill. He doubted Kenny would find him anytime soon, so he decided to make his time useful by looking through the stacks for a new interesting read. He was more of a fiction book man himself, not that he didn't <em> like </em> non-fiction, but if he was going to read for pleasure it was going to be a story he couldn't see in the real world. The fantasy section was far in the back of the 7th column of stacks, and Stan perused the bookshelves meaningfully. What was he in the mood for? Horror, Sci-Fi, fantasy, Action-Adventure? <em> Romance </em>, Stan mused humorfully. That was the last row of the stacks. </p><p>He approached the row curiously, hoping the library had some of those cheesy wish fulfillment 80's books that he and Kenny loved to laugh at, though Stan loved to laugh at them by himself as well. The size of the shelves would be intimidating, but Stan loved the challenge of looking for a good book, and usually just left it up to fate once he found a dewey decimal that he could agree with. Stan’s eyes stopped at the fourth shelf down. This was the shelf. Stan lifted his hand and moved it slowly back and forth in front of the row of colorful vintage romance books, and suddenly stopped reaching forward to get his pick. He slowly opened his eyes to build anticipation, and read the title of the busted up, bright yellow paper back. “The Devil is a Lesbian?” Stan questioned out loud, unable to help himself from holding in a significantly echoing laugh at the homophobia and the image of the laughs he and Kenny were going to share reading it. </p><p>“Shhhhhhhh,” a loud, frustrated hush came from behind the dark wood bookshelf. Stan’s cheeks burned immediately red with embarrassment, and looked through the tops of the books on the shelf over, surprised to see a mess of bright red-orange curls on the other side. It was a man in a brown tweed suit, hunched over a book that Stan couldn't decipher the title of. Stan was surprised that he didn't notice the secret study corner on the second floor, as the man was calmly placed in a small, two-person table that was the same stain of wood as the rest of the library. The man was quite handsome, a pair of gold rimmed glasses resting on his freckled face, the rims as slim as he was. Stan couldn't determine what the man’s eye color was, as the blue and green detailing of the stained glass window next to him covered his face. </p><p>Stan quickly rushed down the isle of books, looking for the entrance to the enclave behind the bookshelves. Once he saw a gap in the shelves, he quietly stepped through, trying to reduce the tapping of his shoes on the wooden floors. He turned the corner, and approached the reading man with mild timidness which increased as the man looked sharply at him in heavy annoyance. </p><p>“Hi, I just wanted to apologize that I  bothered your studying by being loud earlier,” Stan attempted, gaining more confidence as he spoke. </p><p>The man just snorted as he turned his attention to his book and cracked a smile. “You are making it worse by bothering me by apologizing,” he teased. Stan chuckled in response, tension leaving his body as he leaned on the empty chair across from the nameless man. </p><p>“Mind if I sit here,” Stan asked, eyes moving to the seat of the chair, his hand firmly gripped. </p><p>“Gonna bother me some more?” The man responded, closing his book in mock exasperation, and grinning up at the man. His eyes were brown. </p><p>“I would like to yes, as long as you don't mind,” Stan sat down as he spoke, his romance book clamped in one hand. “I’m Stan. Marsh, Stan Marsh.” Stan held out his hand to shake and the other man reciprocated the action, giving three firm shakes before responding, “I’m Kyle Broflovski.”</p><p>“Broflovski. That’s -”</p><p>“Don’t start, I get enough comments already.”</p><p>“I was going to say it was cool, but I wont keep going if it bothers you.” Stan kept the mood light as he leaned on his own elbow, and Kyle chuckled as he did so. </p><p>“So, what’s your major, Kyle?”</p><p>“What’s your major? Couldn't come up with a better pick up line?” Kyle leaned back in chair, arms crossed, and what seemed to be that same sarcastic grin burned onto his face. </p><p>“It was either that or ‘What book are you reading?’ but I assumed the major question would teach me more about you,” Stan smiled back, vaguely gesturing to the closed book sitting title-side-down on the small table between them. </p><p>“Law. And this book in front of me is a reference book on Civics,” Kyle theatrically presented the book to Stan, hand slowly moving below a gold etched<em> Civics </em> on the dark green cover. “You?”</p><p>“History and Education. And this,” Stan lifted the gaudy, retro, homophobic romance that has been planted snugly in his hand the whole time, “I’m sure you know it.” </p><p>Kyle squinted, adjusting his glasses and his smile cracking wider as he read the title. “A fan of the classics I see.”</p><p>“I’m a just-the-classics type of man. Homophobic gay porn has a very important impact on modern society, I’ll have you know.”</p><p>“I’m sure, I’m sure.” Kyle laughed, and looked around the space they were so snugly taking up, “So, what business does a classics man like you have in the romance corner of the library?”</p><p>Stan pulled his cigarette out of his jacket pocket and put it in his mouth lazily, slighting raising his eyebrow as he grinned out the window. “Would you believe me if I told you I was hiding?”</p><p>Kyle huffed and took the cigarette out of Stan’s mouth bravely, tucking it behind his own ear like a pencil, the white blazing against the red of his hair. Stan was shocked by the bold gesture, but it was a natural progression of the interaction. Stan was hoping more and more that Kenny would give up on finding him, two more minutes and Stan would be that much closer to asking the handsome scholar across the table out to coffee. Stan was snapped out of his trance by footsteps approaching, fast past and aggravated, punctuated by a slap to the back of his head before Kyle could respond to the question. </p><p>“Could you give me my fucking cigarette back? Now, please?” The deeply annoyed voice of Kenny loudly whispered, hand open and waiting next to Stan’s face. Stan winked at Kyle and turned to his friend, shit-eating-grin spread widely on his face. </p><p>“I smoked it. I smoked it all up.”</p><p>“You’re a huge, swinging dick, Stanley. Oh, hey Kyle.” Kenny’s mood switched quicker than a light switch, his awaiting hand turning into an enthusiastic wave. </p><p>“Hello, Ken,” Kyle said, much sweeter than the teasing, sarcastic tone he had been carrying with him through his and Stan’s private conversation. </p><p>“I’m assuming you two know each other,” Stan commented, annoyed. Kenny was the last man he wanted to see that moment, but he was glad there was another connection to the mystery library man then the two of them briefly meeting. </p><p>“Yeah! We have lobbying together. I’m glad the two of you met, I was going to introduce you at Token’s party this weekend,” Kenny cheerfully explained to Stan, the cigarette situation forgiven and long forgotten. </p><p>“Yeah, we just...ran into each other. He is a real catch,” Kyle explained, dishing Stan a wink in return. </p><p>“Isn’t he? I would hate to break up your meeting, but me and Stan have Global Economic History in thirty, we should get going.”</p><p>“It's no problem,” Kyle hummed, “I'll see you later Kenny!”</p><p>“See you, Kyle. Lets go Stan,” Kenny stated in a questioning tone, patting Stan on the back lightly. </p><p>“Yeah, go on without me Ken, I'll see you in a sec,” Stan smiled and turned to Kyle again, beginning to push his chair back to get up, book in his hands. </p><p>“It was very nice meeting you, Kyle,” Stan almost purred, while Kyle’s face switched from politely sweet to smarmy but charming .</p><p>“Thank you for being completely annoying. Without you bothering me, I wouldn't have been able to experience the most lackluster personality I’ve ever met,” Kyle teased. Stan quickly picked up Kyle’s civics book from out in front of him to retaliate. As Kyle reached out for his book back, lightly chuckling, Stan responded with, “Oh? That's disappointing. Cause I think you are one of the most <em> interesting </em> people I’ve ever met.”</p><p>“Com'on, man, give me my book back,” Kyle lightly pleading, humor draining from his face as Stan turned around and walked away. </p><p>“Come and find me first.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Making a Habit of it</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan and Kenny go together to Token's weekly kick back, filled with a cast of wild characters and mystery attendants that Stan is both overwhelmed and excited for. Stan notices that Kenny seems to be more in touch with these strangers than he is, and he wonders what his role is in his friend group.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The party Kenny was so intent on going to was that night, and Stan agreed to accompany his dear friend as if this wasn't an event that occurred every Saturday they have been in Periculum University. Kenny went through the routine as upbeat as always, taking Stan with him and insisting on driving in his beat up 2005 Honda Civic which Stan was always nervous was going to explode on them when they needed him most. They would dress casually, or what the preps in school considered to be casual, a button down and oxford combo but this time </span>
  <em>
    <span>without</span>
  </em>
  <span> the sweater vest and waistcoat. Stan didn’t mind the style his peers were going for, he thought it made him look nice, though when going to Token’s parties he tried to look a little more streamlined than Kenny. Kenny walked to his car, hands in the pockets of muddy brown slacks, shirt unbuttoned to the middle of his chest in a style he insisted was ‘70’s porn star aesthetic.’ </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure you watch enough 70’s porn to be an expert, Kenny,” Stan teased, to which Kenny laughed at and responded with, “I was raised on my Dad’s old VHS tapes, I always supported his attempt at a career.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenny walked with swagger as he approached his personal hunk of junk, keys now twirling on his finger as he moved forward. Stan followed a step behind his friend and watched the hilarious excuse for a key ring dance, fashioned with seven bizarre key-chains that Kenny claimed he picked up on his travels and just two keys. The first was the practically retro key to the Honda and the other contrasted humorously, the whimsically detailed skeleton key to their ancient dorm. A glittery wedge of cheese, a plastic purple alien, a hula girl, a dick, a bottle opener, a Lion King on Broadway head, and a dark orange Galaga alien cut through the breeze together as the pair inched closer to the car, an accessory that was surprisingly never a topic of conversation between anyone else. Perhaps no one cared enough to look closer at someone's key ring. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan’s train of thought was broken as Kenny theatrically slapped the top of the car, somehow colored broth grey and brown at the same time. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on, Oedipus, you can make it one more trip for Daddy,” Kenny encouraged his vehicle, causing laughter to come out of Stan once again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan breathed in the fresh fall air as he ducked into the passenger seat, tapping his pockets to see if he remembered to bring everything. With a sigh of emotional preparation he sat in the beige felt seat of McCormick’s car and put his life into its hands for a party he was more excited for this week than any other. He didn't try to think too hard about it as he approached this Saturday, but he knew part of his more upbeat outlook was because a certain ginger was going to be making a special appearance. It was a short interaction he had with the man, and he didn't leave a very good impression, but despite what everyone says first impressions </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren't</span>
  </em>
  <span> everything. He was sure to get in Kyle’s good graces on second interaction. He was an attractive man, Stan very much wanted to believe he had a fair shot at seducing him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenny clicked on the radio as he started the car, already blasting the 80’s station as Kenny immediately started humming to ‘Love is a Battlefield.’ Stan sat in the comfort of the music and Kenny’s awkward sit-dancing as they began to make the trek towards Token’s “summer home,” as he puts it. His parents apparently get tired of the eternal cold of Colorado and decide to go to the eternal cold of Maine occasionally. Token just saw it as another opportunity to either flash his wealth or spend time with his friends, which were honestly one in the same as far as Stan could tell. Stan liked Token, he was funny and easy to get along with and had his head more on his shoulders than their other friends, his parents having strict expectations and all that. Sometimes the silver spoon in his mouth was just blocking his vision too much. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You never told me why you call your car Oedipus? I didn't know you were so inspired by Greek plays,” Stan asked his friend, who was more focused more on the music than the road on the short drive to Token’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan, that’s a simple answer. This car is ancient, its’ past is tragic, and a lot of mother fucking has occurred in the backseat,” Kenny quipped at his friend, trying to suppress a shit-eating smile as he was stewing up his next joke in his head. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan laughed and turned to his friend, “Oh, really? I didn’t know you were such a milf chaser,” Stan lied through his teeth, thinking to Kenny’s habit of approaching older women when they went out to the bars around town. Stan rarely paid enough attention to see how many he brought out to his car, if any. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What can I say, man, I like the maturity and care-giving attitude older women have. They also are significantly more interesting sexually, for example, your mother has repeatedly been all over those seats,” Kenny taunted, causing Stan to gag in surprise and disgust. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up, dude, the Milf jokes about my mom have to stop,” Stan frustratingly expressed through laughter, wiping his hands on his pants out of instinctual desires to wash himself of the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I respect Sharon, Stan. I really do. And I wouldn't mind being your daddy, as long with your mother’s.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kenny!”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenny cackled as he drove in between half assed apologies, and Stan couldn't help but laugh with him. When they calmed down, Stan centered his attention to the outside of the passenger window, the cars leaving the roads as the pair was moving closer and closer to the obscure paths leading to Token’s mansion. They quickly transitioned to the back-roads weaving through colored maples, arranged of oranges, reds, and yellows blurring as they moved forward, the path too heavily repeated that Kenny didn't need to look at directions or slow down. Stan was always enamored with the forest surrounding the Black Family Property, a picturesque New England scene of deer and creeks and towering trees on fire in the autumn with the array of pigment embroidering the leaves. The flame likeness was only exaggerated by the sunset, both its natural state and the golden light heating up the landscape to the human eye. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>All this natural beauty was contrasted with the emphasized mansion, which never failed to dazzle Stan no matter how many times they have seen it. It was aged, dark cobblestone complex, curved top windows and multiple chimneys drawing the eye around the structure. It looked wonderfully old, flame colored ivy weaved into the crack and the stone aged to a dark gray, reasonably weathered from Maine rain. The slats on the roof were a light red tiling, coming up to point in cones on the cylindrical wing of the Black Family Mansion. The front door was as castle-esque as the rest of the home, a dark, thick oak with ornate carving and ironwork attached to the fronting and the frame. Flowers, shrubbery, and bushes surrounded the yard and the gravel driveway, prim and proper in contrast to the wild forest it found base in. It was by all intents and purposes a dream house. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Massuratis, Fiaris, and Mustangs in a wide range of gaudy and classic colors circled the mansion, noting that Stan and Kyle were fashionably late as always. A party should take place at night, as was Kenny’s philosophy, so one would arrive right before then. Kenny parked Oedipus on the side of the house with some struggle trying four times to get it straight so he “doesn’t make it difficult for others to get out,” and Stan started to feel the heightened excitement again at the thought of both hanging out with his friends with the new possibilities opened up with the new people that will be attending the kick back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ready to go,” Kenny asked with sincerity as Stan’s eye sweeped over all of the cars next to them, beginning to feel embarrassed rolling up in Kenny’s junker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Let’s roll.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as the pair stepped out of Oedipus, Token was opening the front door to greet them. He looked as polished as ever, purple silk shirt standing out against his dark skin, hair perfectly quaffed, earrings and belt - Gucci. Stan would be lying if he said he wasn't intimidated by his class and wealth. A bright smile spread across Token’s face as he waved at his friends, shouting out a “Welcome,” and walking over to escort the men to the door. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Kenny, Stan, good to see you again! Thanks for coming,” Token began, bringing Kenny into a half hug and throwing a friendly, acknowledging nod to Stan. Stan smiled and nodded back, straightening out his sweater vest as subtly as he could. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Glad to be here as always, Toke. I see you have invested in ten new hot rods,” Stan teased, bringing a hand up to vaguely gesture around him. Token snorted in response, giving Stan a friendly slap on the shoulder. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, you flatter me, Stanley. I only own the three Mustangs in the front.” Stan laughed, although he knew Token was partially serious. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m still waiting for that drag race I challenged you to, I’m still sure Oedipus will win by a landslide,” Kenny joked easily as they began walking to the door together, causing Token to chuckle good-naturedly at the thought. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m sure, I’m very sure.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Token opened the door for the pair, and Stan was reminded of the greatest tragedy he has experienced in his collegiate career - the interior of the Black Mansion. The gorgeous age of the exterior of the house was sullied by the modern minimalism of the inside, all white walls and furniture, speckled with the occasional plant, neon sign, or quirky knick knack placed in a futile attempt to add personality.  The floors were as shiny white and spotless as the rest of the home, all of the hominess sucked out and replaced with the feeling of walking through an art museum after all the paintings were stolen. The redeeming factors of the home were the friends inside of it, all taking a place around the grand living room, with its designated ‘interesting’ decorations being a fuzzy blue carpet, metallic statues that vaguely resembled types of coral, and a “CHILL, CHILL, CHILL,” red neon sign. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Every party goer had their drink of choice in their hand, Clyde taking it upon himself to be the bartender, not pulling punches with the high quality, ungodly expensive Black Family Booze. Everyone Kenny and Stan knew of were here, but as Kenny had told Stan there were a couple of unfamiliar faces. Wendy and Bebe were recognizable, a dazzling, fashionable, socially-conscious couple that Kenny introduced Stan to from all of his political science classes. They held Shirley Temples in their hands as they talked to their friends, friends Stan did not recognize but was subtly told by Token were named Red, Heidi, and Nicole, least to most beautiful in that order. Token was biased of course, Nicole happened to be his girlfriend, and Stan was taken aback by how beautiful the whole group was that he couldn't tell if there was a ranking at all. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan’s eyes, with the prompting of Token, moved from the girls to Craig sitting on one of the suede, white love-seats, an unknown character on his lap. Kenny informed Stan that that was Tweek. He was a man with dark circles under his eyes and hair that was significantly more untamed than anyone else here, even Kenny. His shirt looked haphazardly buttoned, just one button off, and he was occupied with the affection of Craig in between sips of what looked like a Starbucks coffee cup. He was obviously tangled up with Craig one way or another, and as Stan questioned the status of their relationship (or more specifically questioned if Craig had the emotional capability of a sincere committed relationship), his train of thought was taken away by Jimmy approaching with another new face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“H-h-hey guys! W-What’s s-shakin’,” Jimmy chimed enthusiastically to a chorus of kind greetings in return. “I wanted to c-come over and introduce you to my b-buddy, B-b-butters!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There was a short, pale blonde standing next to Jimmy, who admittedly was a very tall man even crouched to his crutches. The stranger was rubbing his knuckles together as he took a look at Kenny and Stan, and he would be very unassuming if it wasn't for the bright blues of his eyes piercing through the soft youthfulness of his face. He looked insecure, but kind, and eagerly stuck his hand out to Kenny to shake. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hello, Fellas! I’ve been waitin’ to meet cha’, I’ve heard a heck of a lot from Jimmy,” Butters exclaimed in a soft, southern bell drawl. His smile was contagious, and Stan looked towards Kenny’s face as he reached out to shake Butter’s hand. His face was set in an equally enthusiastic smile, although Butters’ was hard to beat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Only good things, I hope. I’m Kenny” Kenny hummed out calmly, and Butters turned to shake Stan’s hand. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-w-well, you b-both get into so much trouble, I cant s-stroke your dicks a-all the time! I gotta use my c-c-crutches occasionally,” Jimmy said. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Butters chuckled with the rest of them as Stan grasped out to his hand, and Stan reared up to make a first impression through the two firm shakes. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan Marsh. Butters, was it? Interesting name, I can only assume it's cause you're so smooth. You gotta very good personality, I can tell already,” Stan winked in Butters’ direction, though he saw Kenny’s smile falter slightly as the sight. Butters cheeks went red as he giggled, shaking his head slightly in response to the probe, rubbing his knuckles together again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W-well, my name’s Leopold, but all my buddies call me lil’ buddy! Soon nough’, everybody just started callin’ me Butters for short.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Very cute,” Kenny chimed, the flush of Butters’ cheeks becoming exponentially more red at Kenny’s soft, punctuating smile. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Aw, thanks! Oh, boy, all of y’all are darn nice!” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Token gave everyone an apologetic smile as Nicole sweetly called him over, beginning to move as he said “Everyone, please help yourself to drinks. Believe it or not, we are still missing a couple people.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The small herd they had created began to move towards Clyde, conversation stirring as they attempted to make Butters feel more welcome in the group. Butters began to open up slowly as conversation topics continued, Jimmy diffusing tense moments with jokes, Stan’s light jests, and Kenny’s authentic questions culminating in a good conversation. Butters didn't want to drink, he was the designated driver for Jimmy, though the rest of the gang was just going to crash at Token’s place. There was more than enough room.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Kenny asked Clyde, who seemed to want to be anywhere else, for a classic rum and coke with the most “expensive sounding shit” Token had. Stan was more in the mood for something fruity, but followed suit, adding a “off the rocks.” Clyde snorted and began mixing after Jimmy asked for his classic pina colada, and Stan turned again to Butters, conversation more lit as they approached the red neon.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, how do you and Jimmy know each other? Were you the only one who laughed at his improv routine at The Spider House and you connected instantly,” Stan jested, poking fun at Jimmy while taking his rum and coke, proceeding to knock it back and chug. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“A-a-actually, Stan, he was the o-only one to laugh at my r-r-routine in Improv </span>
  <em>
    <span>class</span>
  </em>
  <span> and we i-i-in-instantly connected,” Jimmy responded, voice filled with humor as he moved to sit so he could drink. The group followed as Butters piped up. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We are both performing arts majors! We gotta lotta classes together, Jimmy sure is a funny fella,” Butters said, eyes looking as if they could be filled with stars as he spoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What about performing are you interested in, Butters,” Kenny asked in genuine curiosity, deciding to take a seat next to the aforementioned man, and leaving Stan to sit on the other side of Jimmy. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, you may think me silly, but I always really liked playin’ pretend and makin’ puppets and little songs and, well, helpin’ people. I’m gettin’ a double major in psychology, and I wanna be a drama therapist. It's like, mixing all those things up to help someone figure things out,” Butters blushed as he babbled, and Stan was quite impressed at his sincerity and openness. Kenny smiled at the man as he talked, and only looked away once The Girls approached. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, Ken,” Wendy exclaimed, un-alcoholed hand clasped into Bebe’s. Stan once had a crush on Wendy, and no one would judge him for it. She stood at an intimidating 5’ 9’’, even taller in a sleek pair of silver heels she was walking on. Her hair was short, but soft and shiny, always done up in intricate braids and buns. Her mono-lids were beautifully made up, with impressive smoky eyes and winged liner that came from years and years of practice in front of her prized, Victorian mirror. She walked up in a sleek pastel pink bodycon, a purple blazer adorning her shoulders, but her favorite accessory was Bebe Stevens. The signature trophy wife beside every politician, Bebe arranged her golden, curly mane in a crown braid and was in an ironic red pleated skirt and white button up. A republican costume for the most liberal couple that Stan ever met. Bebe was voluptuously curvy, especially next to Wendy, who stood lanky and elegant one head above her lover. No matter how you look at it, they were a show-stopping power couple. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan, all you other boys,” Wendy teased in a general acknowledgement, Bebe cuddling deeper into her shoulder as she spoke, entourage behind them.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You boys being nice to the fresh meat,” Bebe questioned, moving to sit down on the long, complicated L-sofas that luckily fit everyone they knew comfortably. Everyone was migrating to the center of the living room to culminate together, everyone exchanging “nice to meet yous” and “hellos” as they all officially settled in. It was significantly less overwhelming than it sounded, the group was large but the atmosphere was calm. Conversation broke up into smaller groups, making it easier for everyone to catch up, exchanging gossip of the week, jokes, and gulps of drinks into lines of dialogue. Stan was doing well keeping up with everyone, even two drinks in, engaged in what everyone was saying and providing commentary when he felt it was appropriate. Eventually, Stan started to wonder who else was absent. He knew the infamous Kyle Broflovski had not made an appearance, but anyone else was even more of a mystery. Stan kept one ear out for the knocking on the door, but his attention was taken away from Kenny continuing targeting conversation with Butters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tell me if this is rude, but are you dating anyone Butters,” Kenny asked lightly, slight hesitation sewn into his tone. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, you sure look like a lady killer,” Stan piped in, scrunching his nose up at a sip of his drink as Kenny’s eyes shifted to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“W- well. I’ve been single and ready to mingle lately! School may be tough sometimes, so I try not to go gettin’ distracted, but there are so many pretty boys and girls on campus that I wouldn't mind gettin’ some dates,” Butters exclaimed, face red yet again and rubbing his knuckles together in what Stan pegged as a nervous tick. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wow, B-butters! I t-t-thought you were stri…. Str-str….s-striii...strickly-dickly,” Jimmy commented joyfully, causing a round of chuckles throughout the group. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Butters smiled and looked like he was going to make further comment, when loud footsteps clacked in through the foyer and rounded the corner into the cheerful living room. When Stan turned to see the noise, he was taken aback by the figure standing in the living room entrance way. There, a brunet man stood, tall and large, chest puffed and back straightened in a way that Stan felt reeked of arrogance. He was dressed in an outfit that was more appropriate for a courtroom then a kick back. A murky, beige, three piece suit adorned him, buttons pulling around his pronounced stomach. Mud crusted oxfords sat on large feet, and his round, sweat glistening face was twisted in what Stan understood as confusion. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Alright, alright, I’m here. The party can start,” the man said in a voice that was nasally in a way far more grating than Craig’s, doing his best to swagger his way towards the semi-full couches. Token stood up in polite greeting raising his hands up as if presenting the situation to him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cartman! Glad you could make it,” Token exclaimed, now gesturing he sit down on the couch in the empty area next to a still snuggling Tweek and Craig. “There are some people I would like you to meet.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The man - </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cartman</span>
  </em>
  <span> - Stan noted, sauntered to where Token gestured for him to sit and waited till Token began to lower himself beside Nichole once again. Cartman plopped onto the couch theatrically looking around at what Stan assumed were all unfamiliar faces, no trace of a smile on his face. Cartman’s eyes stopped on Kenny, and the edges of his mouth twitched. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You don't have to meet many people here, Token, I know this poor bastard well,” Cartman boomed, causing Jimmy to laugh, and Kenny to lightly stiffen and move his glance away from Butters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Cartman, good to see ya,” Kenny acknowledged, tone light but tense in a way Stan could only tell was artificial. Stan was bewildered to say the least. Cartman, at first glance, was the last person that Kenny would hang out with. Scratch that, the last person that Kenny would even associate with. How many people did Kenny know in the school at all? First Kyle, now another intimidating stranger. Maybe all Political Science people were just close knit and scary, apparently Stan wouldn't know. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I thought you were too busy digging through the trash for scraps to attend parties, Kenneth. Ya know, this house is far from government funded, associating with the bourgeoisie isn't really a </span>
  <em>
    <span>socialist</span>
  </em>
  <span> man like yours style” Cartman cackled to himself, getting an array of scoffs from The Girls but an actual hearty laugh from Kenny, causing him to lean back into the couch as his head threw itself back. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Fuck, Eric, you never cease to amaze me. You gotta get into the in group to dismantle it from the inside. You didn't hear anything, Token,” Kenny joked, causing a look of frustration to fall onto Cartman’s face. “You should meet my friend Stan,” Kenny continued, causing Stan to short circuit. Catman was a man he had no idea what to say to, and Stan wasn't sure he even wanted to socialize with him. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stan, hm? Kenny has said nice things about you. Though, if you are hanging out with him, I’m not sure it's true,” Cartmen said, stretching a hand out to shake Stan’s. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I actually haven't heard about you,” Stan tried to rebuttal smoothly, “but you sure know how to make an entrance.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cartman smiled smarmily as his hand shake continued, and as soon as their hands broke Stan noticed he wiped both on his pants. He looked around, face puckered, getting nods of acknowledgement from people Stan assumed he met before, which was all except Butters, who attempted a smile and a wave. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Love what you did with the interior of the place,” Cartman said to Token, who was drawn out of his conversation with Nicloe and Heidi. “We should get the music playing, get some bodies moving in here,” he continued standing up as if to do it himself. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Sure, I don't see why not. Anyone opposed,” Token questioned non-committedly to the occupied micro groups, getting a round of “sures” and an excited “That’ll be fun” from Butters. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan stood himself up with the others, moving with Kenny to pull the couches out to the corners of the living room despite Token insistence that they try their best not to scratch the floor. Jimmy insisted he DJ for the group, moving to use the Black Family Sound System, sleek and large, taking up impressive space on a sound system wall. Stan looked around at the people he considered friends, the energy slightly soured by the stranger taking charge in their perfectly curated energy. Stan was upset, he felt so too quickly, but to be upset over a rotten energy wasn't common for him. His confusion about the situation began to slightly overwhelm him, the amount of new people had become exhausting, the room empty and echoing as bass filled low-fi made the room feel like it was vibrating. Cartman’s sourness, or at least Stan’s interpretation of it, began to fade as old friends began to laugh and dance in the middle of Token’s large, large living room. Jimmy’s music choices brought dancing to drown out what Stan felt was a critical interruption to his night, and he felt like everything was beginning to blur, a mix of his encroaching intoxication and emotional energy tank being empty. He felt a slap on his back as Kenny passed him, led by Butters to the dance floor, the new friend red faced from embarrassment as his soberness left no other explanation. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan looked on, stiff and standing next to the couch as he watched on as his friends and new acquaintances gyrated on the floor, laughs and conversation blending with the beat of the music. Stan reflected on the possibility of dancing but he felt as this moment he was becoming too dizzy to participate beyond watching, and found some humor in watching on mixed with a feeling he couldn't pin-point. Cartman danced with anything but grace, self-confidence motivating the solo movements across the fussy carpet, waist coat unbuttoned and forehead slick. The girls dance mindlessly wonderfully, together in a circle, but Bebe and Wendy were swaying unbearably close to each other, muttering things Stan would assume would make him blush. Craig sat coolly on the couch pushed into the corner, Tweek swaying back and forth with drink still in hand and thighs draped over Craig's. Jimmy’s head bobbed as he continued to pick song after song, effectively keeping the mood constant. The star of the show was Kenny effortlessly doing the Travolta as Butters laughed on, Kenny’s little boogies and jives moving in tandem, surprisingly in sync with Butters’ shy little bops and steps. Stan laughed through the overwhelming feelings, and sharply decided he needed a smoke. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan crossed the picket line of dancing, loudly yelling over the music, “I’ll be back, gonna take a smoke,” getting a chorus of acknowledging nods as he stepped through the hallways of Token’s home. The interior of the home situation was worse and worse as Stan continued to walk, trying to ignore the increasingly horrific decor of back geometric wall hangings, mid century chandeliers, and plastic plants. Stan found the ever so familiar back door of Token’s home through the sleek, fully white kitchen. The southern monument of oak was pushed open with all of Stan’s effort, the music significantly fading as Stan walked out into the cool night air. He looked around at the back garden, overwhelming and ornate with trimmed back bushes, fountains and flowers that Stan was almost upset he was going to pollute with </span>
  <span>cigarette smoke. Stan pulled the cigarette out of his pocket. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey,” said a familiar voice behind him, causing Stan to falter as he attempted to light the cigarette in his mouth. Stan turned sharply to see no one other than Kyle Broflovski, leaning in all his glory onto the ledge of the grande doorway. He was attractive in the low light of the night as much as he was in the daylight, dressed significantly more casually than he was the last time Stan had seen him. He was sporting a sage green t-shirt and brown khaki pants, brown combat boots going well with a combat jacket. His hair was messy, his smile carefree, and his hands buried deep into his pockets as he looked at Stan, one eyebrow cocked upwards. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan laughed at the situation, finishing lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag, now needing to calm his nerves even more. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you smoke,” Stan asked as his gaze was fixed on the lit trees and shrubbery of the intricate secret garden. He heard the crunch of the footsteps on the well designed gravel approaching him, stopping directly next to him. Stan felt himself tense at the presence, Kyle standing a couple inches taller than him now in comparison to their first meeting, them then both sitting. Stan turned out of politeness towards Kyle, seeing him pull a singular cigarette out of his jacket’s breast pocket. Stan couldn't help but think back to their first interaction. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Socially,” Kyle stated simply, putting it in his mouth and lighting it himself tersely, seeming to not want to make any more conversation although a light smile rested on his lips. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Socially, huh? Why not make a habit out of it,” Stan joked lightly, nervous to make a good second impression. Kyle scoffed openly before he took a long drag and signed the smoke out through his nose. Stan couldn't help but breath in the residue. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, Stan, it's cause I’m like you,” Kyle responded, kicking the gravel around with his boot, beginning to make little squiggles in the dirt. Stan was both endeared and paralyzed with nerves. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Like me?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do everything just to look cool,” Kyle stated, dropping the half dragged cigarette and crushing it beneath his boot. Stan shook off the comment and continued to take hits off his own cigarette, looking back out into the garden to calm the beating in his heart at the strange accusation as he cooked up a response. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I mean cigarettes are addictive and bad for one’s health, so suggesting that it is a cool habit is actually very ignorant of you,” Stan joked, chuckling to himself as Kyle scoffed in frustration. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re very funny, you should be a comedian, truly. I found you by the way, feel free to just give my book to Ken,” Kyle drawled sarcastically as he looked back at the sky. “Did you enjoy reading it? I assume you read it to impress me or something.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stan couldn't pretend Kyle was wrong. He attempted to read the first chapter after Kenny fell asleep but found himself thoroughly confused by what the author was trying to explain to him. Stan got the general ideas, there are particular rights and duties of one's citizenship, people in the U.S. are losing the civic religion, yadda yadda yadda, it was all very important. Stan was interested, yes, but he read it with Kyle’s face in mind as he skimmed each word, so he was thoroughly distracted from the deep political analysis.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve skimmed a bit of it, yes,” Stan admitted, a coy smile leaking through his cocky one. Kyle openly laughed as he put a hand briefly on Stan’s shoulder, still kicking the gravel. The laughter was appealing, mixing into the crisp fall air, and Stan tried his hardest to not tense up under the touch, intrigued by the forward contact. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What's your opinion on Wilson’s theory of four quadrants of opinion separating the American Proletariat instead of uniting us against the oppression of Capitalism,” Kyle asked with false sincerity, a clear quiz in his voice. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It's wack,” Stan stated matter of factly, getting a smile out of Kyle as they locked eyes for the first time that evening. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re impossible,” Kyle hummed out through his upturned lips, turning to walk back to the door. Stan watched him as he went, the hope draining from him as he couldn't tell if he messed up their second impressions as well as their first. He sincerely hoped not, but there was always the party inside to turn things back in Stan’s favor. Hopefully, they would meet more than this one night, as Stan felt that whatever was going on with the two of them was just the beginning. </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I know this chapter is longer and had a darker tone than chapter one, and this is just a notification that the rest of this story is going to have chapters of this length and tone. I will probably be going back to revise chapter one to fit the rest of the fic soon, and I am already halfway into writing chapter three. Thank you for reading!!!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A Perfect Order</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Stan finds Kyle and has an interesting interaction in Stan's favorite coffee shop, while Kenny has good news about a certain date with a certain someone.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Stan hurried across campus, his saddle bag feeling like it weighed a hundred pounds. It had been a long day at school, Wednesday was his most busy day, and his mind and body felt fully drained. On days like these, overcast and emotionally exhausting, there was only one place Stan wanted to be - Sam’s Coffee Shoppe. It was a locally owned place that found its home on campus, and Stan found himself drawn there whenever he felt like this. Not only was the coffee invigorating, but the atmosphere was too - a quaint, cozy cafe that contrasted attractively with the 1800’s architecture of the old carriage house modified for the sale of caffeinated beverages. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan walked through unfamiliar faces on the cobblestone paths to the campus corner, head slightly down, cuddled into a wool peacoat as the autumn chill blasted through the school buildings. Stan increased his pace awkwardly as he felt a light drizzle begin to fall on his face, and he was glad that the rain at least couldn't penetrate the leather of his bag. Stan actually adored the rain, a type of weather that made sparse appearances in the mountain town he grew up in in Colorado, where rain quickly turned into snow. Stan loved the feeling of it, the sound of it on the windows of him dorm when he fell asleep, and the smell of it on the aged cobblestone and the luscious landscaping of his college campus. But now, with the stress of the day, he wanted nothing to do with it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Stan saw the “Sam’s” sign hanging in the distance, a small red sign drilled horizontally on the outside of the stone carriage house. Stan pushed through the wooden doors of the cafe, and his face was immediately blasted with warmth. Stan never got tired of the interior, dark wood floors and cobblestone walls filled to the brim with nothing but comfort. In the middle of the cafe was the reason for the warmth, an antique fireplace roaring, and a barista occasionally tending to it. Brown leather chairs and couches were littered around the cafe, coffee and side tables of dark wood covered in cafe-provided mugs and professor-provided homework. Plants of all sizes and types were littered throughout the shop, placed snugly in corners, the middle of tables, and hanging from the walls near the large, ornate windows. The most impressive part of the shop was the fully wood cafe bar, with antique coffee grinders, 100 year old registers, and silver and gold vintage espresso machines letting out gusts of steam and sounds Stan unique to this one place. Book shelves stood in one corner of the cafe, filled with cookbooks, classics, popular Y.A. novels and niche nonfiction that acted more as decoration as the students read textbooks with their coffee more than anything else. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of Stan’s stress melted away at the thick smell of coffee and fire, the sounds of rain on the window and steam bursting in dramatic sperts almost bringing tears to Stan’s eyes. Light murmurs of conversation and a back track of oldies music completed the atmosphere, and Stan lightly sighed to himself as he walked up to the counter barista. Behind the counter was Heidi, and it clicked in Stan’s head that he had seen her before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, Heidi,” Stan said as he smiled widely, looking at the aged paper menu on the wall behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi-ya, Stan, good to see you again. You want your regular,” Heidi asked sweetly, brown hair pulled up in a ponytail and dressed in various browns and creams as the classic Sam’s dress code. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I would love my regular. Will I see you for the weekly party this Saturday,” Stan asked with irony thick in his voice, coaching a chuckle out of the kind barista. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep! Last week was fun. Oh! Also, do you wanna change your lavender latte from whole milk to oat? It's better for the environment and there's no extra charge!” Yeah. She was definitely in Wendy’s friend group, and Stan loved it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, Heidi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool! It will be out in a minute!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan nodded in acknowledgement and began to move towards his normal place beside the window, a large, warm chair where Stan had a good view of the rain and the passersbys on campus. Stan moved, fighting his exhaustion in mind as he walked towards his space, but he was stopped in place by a certain orange color moving by the fire. Stan was frozen in place, his general state of mind disrupted by the compelling pull to Kyle Brovlofski sitting by the cafe fireplace. Kyle was as prim and proper as their first meeting, the all too infamous Civics textbook sitting in his lap as he chewed on his thumb nail, reading intently by the heat of the fire. On a small side table sat a quirky “I can’t talk, I’m too busy catching fish '' mug with an image of Garfield holding a bass, filled with an incredibly milky coffee to the point where it was almost as white as the mug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan was hesitant to come up and bug him, but Stan wondered if ignoring him and going to the corner would be even more rude. Stan felt an internal struggle, slight, and something he can't  pin-point, fighting the urge to approach Kyle and hope the third time's the charm or if he could curl up in his corner and read his new ridiculous find, a How-to book on desert survival. Stan’s hands gripped harder on to the straps of the saddle bag as his legs chose for him, striding towards the fireplace, the smell of burnt wood filling his nose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kyle’s eye flitted up from his civics book in a scene all too familiar, and a smile grew on Stan’s face as Kyle’s eyes zoomed back into focus on the world surrounding him. The light of the fire was flicking on his attractive face, the shadows making it look like his freckles were moving on his skin in his own small corner of the world. Kyle’s lip corners moved upwards slightly as he processed Stan in his entirety, face in stone cold friendliness but knuckles white in the grip of his bag. The heat of the fire was confusing Stan’s perception of the heat moving towards his face as Kyle slyly looked up at him. Stan felt exposed in the warm corner of the coffee shop, as if the fire was burning off his clothes and Kyle’s eyes were burning off his skin. It was all too overwhelming as it was twistedly welcoming, and Stan, for more than once in his life, did not know what to say. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stanly,” Kyle acknowledged humorously, turning back to his book in what Stan could tell was now a false interest. “Come to interrupt my reading again?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan sat in the large chair next to Kyle’s, putting his saddle bag down next to his shins as Stan breathed in the smoke. Kyle took that as a silent response of affirmation and snorted softly in surprise? Stan ultimately couldn't tell, he felt that he was simultaneously pissing Kyle off and humouring him with every interaction and it was starting to grate on Stan. Stan could only sit back and try a different angle with their interactions, testing if soft silence was something Kyle preferred as Stan waited for his drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, finally run outta witty things to say,” Kyle hummed, eyes still not moving as he looked forward on the same page of his civics book. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Never. Tell me, what is </span>
  <em>
    <span>your</span>
  </em>
  <span> opinion on the four quadrants of civics effects on the dis-unification against capitalism,” Stan softly jabbed, intrigued in Kyle’s thin hand moving to pick up the gaudy mug and bring it to his own lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree with you. It is wack.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan laughed honestly, starting to relax into the chair, but something was holding Stan back from fully falling into the routine sense of cafe calm. Perhaps it was the sound of Kyle’s fingers rubbing the pages of paper together or his jagged breath, but the rain and the bursts of coffee machine steam became more foreboding than comforting. Perhaps it was that Stan still needed a coffee in his hand, or maybe it was the cool handsomeness and poise that radiated off of the man next to him. It was both titillating and intimidating. Stan gripped onto the arms of the chair. Perhaps this was Kyle’s twisted version of comradery, but Stan couldn't peg him down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you come to the coffee shop often,” Stan asked with flirtation in his tone, but sincere curiosity was an effective motivator. Kyle looked up from the page and into Stan’s eyes, eyebrow cocked but a smile on his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, I’m here all the time. This is my spot,” Kyle gestured vaguely to the two chaired area the pair was currently occupying. Stan was surprised he didn't notice Kyle here before, unless Kyle was just playing with him to get a response he wanted to hear. Stan’s lack of certainty was repelling him and attracting him to hear more. “Perhaps you just don’t pay enough attention as you think.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan was about to rebuttal, when Heidi sweetly called “Stan, your latte,” from the bar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Stan said more sheepishly then he intended, causing Kyle to smile deeper and wave his hand as though he was waving the worries away. Stan got up and gave a soft ‘thank you’ to Heidi as he grabbed the matte black national parks mug that was filled with the aroma of espresso and lavender, and turned around to move back towards the seat. When he turned, the seat next to the fire was empty, man, book, and cheesy coffee mug miraculously disappearing in thin air. Stan quickly felt the coldness of disappointment fill his chest, as his chances with the mysterious, handsome scholar seemed like they were running away from his grasp, and Stan partially knew that the chase itself was what was pushing the chances away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan walked back with a sense of slight embarrassment, but still sat in the spot once filled with terse conversation, warm fire in front of him and warm mug in hand, as Stan fully and wholeheartedly fell into the calm and peace he was desperately searching for. </span>
</p><p>- - - - - - -</p><p>
  <span>The walk to Stan’s dorm room was less heavy than the walk to Sam’s, but Stan knew that the residual weight was the million pound presence of Kyle Brovfloski crushing Stan’s brain. Failure was not a word in Stan’s vocabulary, but it was something he fully felt when encountering the ginger, although Stan felt he succeeded as much as humanly possible as he could with the man. The only other person he saw - well, fully heard- Kyle interact with was the brief stint with Kenny, who pulled off interaction flawlessly as he always does. Anything else was the loose demeanor Kyle held at Token’s kickback in conversations Stan was too hesitant to encroach on, which Stan assumed were all successful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny should be in the dorm when Stan arrived, and Stan wondered if that would be a blessing or a curse. Kenny was a possible good distraction from all of this, but Stan was hesitant to tell Kenny the situation. Kenny would know what to do, he would know exactly what to do, and that made Stan feel all the more like a failure. He wanted Kyle to like him, and he was going to do it on his own, it wouldn't be him if he got advice from anyone. Talking to Kenny, someone who was in Kyle’s good graces as far as Stan knew, was cheating to an extent. That didn't mean he wouldn't ask the questions that were irking him about how the two are so close, if they were at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually Stan’s feet brought him to the door. A large oak door, significantly smaller than the one fronting Token’s mansion, but similar in style in design was standing sturdy before him. It was room fourteen, floor three of the west campus dorm building (the scholarship dorms), a place where Stan shared a good portion of his life with none other than Kenny McCormick. Stan took out his key ring, only adorning his Sam’s Coffee Membership card and the key to this particular room, the room key matching in metal and style of the swirling iron work decorating the entryway. Stan unlocked it, and he was surprised that he actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> to unlock it, an uncommon occurrence this late in the evening due to Kenny usually already claiming the energy of the space inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The oak door opened with a calming and rustic creak, only suggesting more of the age of the place Stan sleeps at night. Kenny usually jumps at the creaking, always convinced that there is a ghost in the dorm room and it will be out to get him one day. Whenever Stan asks why, Kenny always answers with “Because I shit talk it when you aren't here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room stood before Stan, empty, cold from the outside wind chill permeating the walls, and distinctly different from the other dorms Stan has had the pleasure of laying his eyes on. The scholarship student complex was significantly less, well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>high class</span>
  </em>
  <span> than the other dorm buildings. There was still an antique beauty to the room, Stan sure wasn't complaining about that, but they got aged wallpaper while the other student got polished wood panels. The walls were a faded yellow floral pattern, aged to the point that if you squint your eyes slightly you couldn't determine if there was a pattern at all. The floors were lightly polished, but accumulated decades and decades of scratches from the furniture moving around. Stan and Kenny were allotted two beds, two roll top desks, two wooden chairs that make your lower back hurt after sitting on them for too long, and one large bookshelf to hold all of their school books. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan threw his book bag on his bed and moved to put his jacket in his side of the closet. He was desperately in need of a shower - a private bathroom was a luxury that Stan was very grateful for- and if Kenny isn't back yet he needed to get it done quickly before he did return. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan entered the worn down bathroom, even colder than the rest of Stan’s empty dorm. The bathroom followed the same theme as the rest of Stan and Kenny’s habitat, a copper tub sitting on the corner of the four walls. The sink and the toilet were a wood decorated porcelain, gaudy but charming from the 1970’s remodel, cracks and water damage flowing up the lace-like cream wallpaper matching in the same almost golden color of the Spanish style tiles. Copper matching the tub adorned the sink faucet, toilet handle, and removable shower head, and the whole place was set off kilter by the shower curtain that Stan and Kenny had to supply on their own - a sketchy, artistic array of breasts in all shapes, sizes and colors. It was more tasteful than it sounded, and Stan at Kenny’s request even bought towels to match. Kenny said it was supporting a feminist message, and Stan found it so ironically funny that he didn’t hesitate to put it in his online shopping cart before they went to college. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan breathed in the smell of the lingering drug store shampoo, Dove soap bars leaving residue on the sides of the tub. He hesitated to strip, but once he began he immediately felt goosebumps whelp on all over his bare skin, the draft becoming unbearable. Stan quickly turned the water on to the hottest possible temperature (with the age of the pipes, it actually turned out to be not that hot) and jumped under the water for some sense of refuge. Stan cursed himself that he forgot his phone in the other room, as he usually played podcasts while he was in the shower, hating the running of his own thoughts in conjunction with the water. Now it was just he, himself, and Stan, left reflecting on the thoughts of the day. Stan’s mind eventually wandered to Kyle Broflovski, especially the conversation they just had at the coffee shop. Stan thought he could probably chalk that one interaction up as the most successful one yet, seeming to get into a bit of Kyle’s good graces. The man was still a mystery, aloof, unattached, and that made him all the more interesting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan’s thoughts were interrupted by Kenny humorously yelling, “Honey, I’m hooooome,” loud enough that Stan could hear it through the restroom door and over the sound of water pounding on bronze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit,” Stan muttered under his breath, turning off the water in a hurry, re exposed to the chill of the air. As Stan moved to rub himself down quickly with a lopsided breast themed  towel, Kenny was shuffling around on the other side of the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, man,” Stan called out, naked and cold again. “Can you pass me my pajamas, I forgot to grab them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan heard Kenny laugh at him, the creaking of his bed, and heavy footsteps moving towards where Stan’s closet was located. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah, look at all your little jammies,”  Kenny cooed lightly and mockingly near the door as Stan opened the door a crack and twisted his arm through to grab the tee shirt and flannel bottoms that Kenny shoved into his clammy hand. Stan snorted as Kenny snickered . </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever, everyone needs to sleep in something,” Stan called out as he hurried to get a barrier between his goosebumped skin and the draft that he made worse by opening the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“ I beg to differ,” Kenny said, innuendo dripping from his voice. Stan elected to ignore it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan had finally gotten his pajamas on and he breathed in, emotionally preparing to have an interaction this late in the evening. He hesitated slightly, but eventually opened the door , and adjusted his mood to the room in front of him. With Kenny in the room now, Stan couldn't help but be hyper fixated on his particular side of the unit. There lied Kenny, in an old, beige Goodwill t-shirt and khaki pants, mismatched socks on his feet as he stared dreamily at the water stained, wallpaper-cracked ceiling. Kenny was surrounded by knick knacks and decor that Stan couldn't bring himself to look at too long, visually stimulating and logically nonsensical. Kenny’s bed sheets were a discounted floral duvet that he found for cheap at a farmers market from a woman who said it was handmade but a tag that clearly showed that it was handmade in Taiwan. On the two walls wrapped around his bed were tapestries, one a Spanish- Style astrological design and the other a Victorian inspired herbology chart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny’s desk was another thing. On his chair sat a beat up leather backpack, another one of Kenny’s proudest thrifting finds, punctured with strange free pins that the campus passed out, detailing phrases like “It's not selfish to be self-caring,” and “Alcohol awareness comes first.” The only accessories that made sense were a pronoun pin and a plain yellow smiley face. The surface on the desk was visually similar to if a curio cabinet was beaten with a baseball bat, all oddities spilled out in no particular random order, or only an order that made sense to Kenny. There sat a rattle snake head in a mason jar, a rat skeleton, an antique band aid box, one of those grandmotherly cookie tins (empty and used for Kenny to collect coins),  black ball point pins wrapped in a rubber band, a Kenny-proclaimed ‘haunted’ marionette, and a multitude of items to the point that Stan could have sworn he lived in an I-Spy Book. Papers and school books were put in three distinct piles, “important, moderately important, and not important.” It was an organized mess, Stan could barely stand it if it wasn't the only decoration in the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where were ya, Ken, you are usually back from the Gulag by when I got here,”Stan questioned, knowing Kenny’s internship is done pretty early in the day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenny looked more pointedly at the ceiling as Stan padded over to his own bed, letting out a sigh and a smile as his head turned to Stan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was on a date,” Kenny said, joy clearly etched on his features. Stan resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he propped himself up on the headboard, crossing his arms and leaning his head back as he sighed, a slight burn he couldn't explain boiling in his chest. Kenny stayed, coyly smiling with his little secret, eyes turned back to the ceiling. Fine, Stan would bite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ya gonna tell me what happened, or you gonna sit there grinning like an idiot,” Stan grumbled, sinking deeper into the stack of pillows preventing his back from hitting the hard, polished wood. Kenny sat up, unwavered, legs tossed over the side of the bed in a way that made the metal of the mattress springs groan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember that handsome man we met at Token’s place? Butters,” Kenny practically singed, a hand running through his hair, now messy from a day's worth of activities. Stan looked closer at Kenny, paying close attention and convinced that he had misheard him. Butter’s Stoch? He was hardly what Stan would have pegged down as Kenny’s type, no, he was what Stan would have determined was way below Kenny’s league. He was cute and polite, and Stan liked teasing him, but he wasn't exactly much. Nevertheless, Kenny’s eyes sparkled with an innocence and excitement that Stan had not seen in years. Stan couldn't stop himself from talking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Butters? Really?” Kenny’s smile momentarily faltered at Stan’s questioning, unable to keep the slight tone of judgment from seeping into his question. Kenny brought himself to an enthusiastic nod as he began talking further, not pushing or fighting back at Stan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, Butters! He is so cute, you were there to see it at the party, you had to. He is just so nice and sincere and smart and selfless and warm and optimistic. I took him to the butterfly sanctuary downtown. It was like he had never seen a butterfly before, Stan! He was just pointing out everything, he read every plaque, he held my hand like it was nothing! He is so straightforward and blunt, ah,” Kenny let out excitedly, like he was fighting keeping in screams of happiness. Stan brought himself to smile slightly, hyper aware of his own lack of a romantic story, and said “You got all that from just one date?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One date is all I need to tell. I took him out to dinner afterwards, just the burger truck on 8th street, and he treated it like a gourmet meal! And like halfway through his burger he just looked at me and said ‘I really like you, Ken. I hope you kiss me on our next date.’” Kenny lightly slapped his feet against the floor in a childish excitement, but a cool, confident smile sat on his face. Stan nodded in acknowledgement of the story, the whole situation strange and out of character for Kenny, who was a man who didn’t go past the first date most of the time and was too sexually seasoned to blush at the mention of a kiss. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kenny, you could date better people. But as long as you are happy,” Stan concluded, instinctively feeling as though he had to comment something to that effect. Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed and he moved towards getting into bed, mouth twisted sideways as a blush rose to his cheeks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Butters </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> better people. I like him very much.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was decisive, Kenny turning under his covers away from the light and shutting his eyes, foot shaking anxiously at the end of his bed. Stan felt like apologizing, part of him knew he should, but an equal part of him was telling him that Kenny and Butters wouldn't last. Kenny was too uncommitted, Stan told himself and the burning in the chest feeling began to subside. The latter mental argument won out, and Stan silently flicked off the light, sinking under his own covers. He stared upwards and tried to clear his mind, two bare walls and an empty desk being his only company as he drifted off.  </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hello, I hoped you liked Chapter 3!!! I am moving into more Bunny representation, I just adore it so much. I'm trying to write jealously well but its a little difficult, I hope it is coming off in the way i intended. Thank you for reading!!</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to my new series! This chapter is significantly more upbeat and shorter than my other ones. I've written to chapter 4 and I cant promise a consistent upload schedule with school, but I will finish this series, pinky promise. I wanted to take a very character-based approach to a college AU, I thought it would be interesting if Stan was his own enemy, which you will see more and more in later chapters. I hope you enjoy!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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